Fevered
by Edina Clouds
Summary: Missing scenes from the episodes "The Coming of Arthur - Part 1 and 2" Merlin fights to save a seriously wounded Arthur.  My first Merlin fanfic - gulp!  Arthur & Merlin friendship story
1. Chapter 1

After re-reading the previous version of this story I felt it needed a rewrite (should never have checked Google for the spelling of Gwaine – sorry about that). Some slight tweaks and additions here and there. Hope this reads better than the original!

* * *

**Fevered**

The fever had worsened, had taken hold of the badly wounded Prince and was ravaging his already weakened body. He lay on the cold hard ground, body wracked by chills that were in stark contrast to the sweat that soaked his thick-blond hair.

Merlin tried desperately to comfort him, to offer re-assurance, to bathe his hot-flushed face, to cover his too cold body with his woefully thin cloak. What he really needed was magic – of that he was certain. With the right healing spell he would be able to heal his friend and master. But whilst Gwaine sat nearby he could not chance it; could not reveal his secret, even if this man was a friend.

So he looked for a diversion, a way to gain time alone with Arthur. He found it in a request for more firewood. Gwaine was a practical man, would quickly see the need to maintain their source of heat and protection. And he did - after a short period of playful objections he willingly set off on the allotted quest; leaving Merlin alone with the gravely ill Prince.

Instantly the young magician was at Arthur's side; was whispering the incantations he felt sure would revive his friend.

But it was soon evident his spells were not working – they were either not powerful enough or, as Merlin now feared, Arthur was too far gone; was now too sick and beyond help.

"C'mon ... Arthur c'mon," he murmured, despairing, fighting back tears that threatened to fall.

Arthur, his fever worsening, shivered violently. "Must ... do my duty," he moaned, delirious. "Help ... my ... people." He opened his eyes then and stared wildly around, stared past Merlin, failing to even recognize the presence of his servant. He struggled to his knees, gritting his teeth in his determination to stand, to continue the quest he did not realize had failed.

Merlin, afraid his master would re-open the badly infected wound, wrapped a supportive arm around Arthur, spoke quietly to the disorientated man, coaxed him back to the ground.

"Everything will be alright," he whispered, pulling his cloak over the shivering man. "We'll look for the cup ... we'll save Camelot. But right now - you need to rest."

If Arthur had heard the words the young magician could not tell. The Prince, teeth clenched against the pain moaned in his fevered sleep, shivering uncontrollably as the poison ran its debilitating course.

Merlin, desperate to keep this sick man warm, nestled beside his friend – his body providing the additional heat that Arthur so badly needed. He wrapped his arm protectively around the shivering frame, whispered words of reassurance as he stroked sweat-soaked locks from the fevered face. Reacting to the gentle touch Arthur opened his eyes.

"Merlin," he murmured, momentarily recognizing his young servant. "What … happened?"

"You got shot remember … the arrow was poisoned … you're running a fever."

"I … got … shot?" the Prince questioned, words slurred. "I … don't … remember." And he drifted away again then, shivering uncontrollably; body wracked with pain.

When Gwaine finally returned with the firewood Merlin quickly helped the warrior to stoke up the dying flames of their fire. Arthur would benefit from the additional heat and together they pulled him closer to the revitalised flames. The Prince moaned softly as he began to feel the warmth of the fire, tossing his head from side to side, fighting to push away the cloak that enwrapped him – face flushed; fever-hot. Merlin pulled the makeshift blanket back in place, it was important that his master did not become chilled.

He dampened a cloth and wiped Arthur's sweat-drenched brow. Tears that for so long had threatened to fall now trickled down his face. Gwaine, noticing his friend's distress, squeezed Merlin's shoulder.

"He'll be alright," he said quietly, offering reassurance. "You'll see."

"He's getting worse," Merlin murmured as he wiped his face on his sleeve. "You know he is."

The warrior nodded – could not deny it, even for the sake of his friend. It was clear that the boy was immensely fond of the Prince. From their first meeting he had seen the devotion; had witnessed the loyalty but still could not understand it.

"Why do you put up with him?" he asked quietly.

"Because he's my friend," Merlin answered matter of fact.

"But how can you think of him as a friend? ... I've seen how he treats you. He clearly sees you as his servant and not his friend."

"You don't know him," the boy grinned, wiping away unshed tears. "His bark's so much worse than his bite. Since I've been with him I've seen him change ... seen what a great warrior he's become, how much he cares for his people. One day I know he will become a great king."

"Not if we don't get that cup," Gwaine reminded his young companion. "And unless we get him some help soon I don't think he'll last much longer."

"We need to get his fever down ... help me lift him, there is one more thing we could try. I have a potion that Gaius gave me before we left ... in case we ran into trouble. I think that might help - temporarily at least."

The rugged warrior knelt behind the sick Prince and gently lifted his sweat-soaked torso into a sitting position, supporting his shivering body as Merlin lifted a small vial to Arthur's quivering lips. Slowly they coaxed him to drink, to swallow the much needed medication. Finally the vial was empty and they lowered the wounded man to the ground. Merlin re-soaked a cloth and used it to cool his master's too-hot brow, whilst Gwaine threw the last of the wood on their fire.

Satisfied they had done all they could, they settled on the cold, hard ground, lying close to the seriously wounded Prince; praying he would survive the night.

They were still asleep when Arthur, fever abated, finally awoke.


	2. Chapter 2

This has been bobbing around in my head for a long time – always wanted to fill in the gap between Part One and Two of "The Coming of Arthur." Hope you'll enjoy my take on what we should have seen on screen.

x-x-x

"I crown thee Morgana Pendragon ... Queen of Camelot."

The words cut through him as sharply as the arrow that had pierced his leg almost twenty four hours before. How could this be happening? How could Morgana have betrayed his father (their father) like this; how could she have betrayed him like this?

He wanted to rise up from his hiding place to denounce her but he knew that to do so would be suicide; knew that Merlin had been right to stop him; knew that the immortals would cut him to ribbons.

He stared in horror at the woman now seated upon his father's throne; at the woman he loved as a sister, and then it hit him. He'd failed - failed to save his father; failed to save Camelot.

And with that realisation he knew that he couldn't keep going any more, could no longer hold back the tidal wave of pain that long threatened to consume his sweat drenched body.

"Merlin," he breathed, wanting to tell his friend to go, to getaway, to save himself. But all other words were lost as he collapsed unconscious beside the young sorcerer.

x-x-x

Merlin had seen it coming, had long expected his master to succumb to the infection raging inside. Gaius had warned the Prince, had wanted to redress the wound to reduce the inflammation. But Arthur had refused, insisting on something to "keep me going" instead. The potion given did its job instantaneously, numbing the pain and revitalising the injured man. So much so that by the time Gwaine and Elyan had returned he was able to convince them to leave – had they realised their Prince remained gravely ill they would never have left his side. The act however had not fooled Merlin, which was why he'd stayed with Arthur.

Now with his friend unconscious beside him he was determined to get the Prince (and himself) to safety. But how? The Palace now swarmed with an immortal army that would be patrolling every corridor. And it was ruled by a sorceress who would stop at nothing to find and destroy the future King of Albion.

Only one thing would get them out of this predicament – magic. The Cloaking Spell. He quickly muttered the required incantation and moments later they were both invisible, to man and beast.

Wrapping Arthur's arm across his shoulder Merlin stood up heaving the unconscious Prince to his feet and manoeuvring him away from the crowded throne room. Slowly they moved through the dark, empty corridors, down staircase after staircase the young Sorcerer straining under the weight of his seriously ill friend.

Only once were they nearly caught. They'd reached Camalot's well stocked cellar. Arthur, battling the fever raging within, was struggling to breath, each laboured gasp becoming louder and louder. Until, eventually, they were overheard. Merlin had not seen the warrior approaching, had not noticed the immortal that was close by. The unholy being thrashed out with his razor sharp sword in search of the unseen prey. Only the young sorcerer's magical ability saved them - in a heartbeat he'd raised his hand to imprison the enemy within an empty wine cask – an extra flick of the wrist sealing the un-killable man inside.

Finally they had traversed through the secret tunnel and were now struggling through the forest. But by now Merlin was spent. Arthur, whilst lean and fit, was no light weight and the task of getting him to safety had taken its toll on the much lighter magician. Easing the fever-wracked Prince to the ground Merlin slumped down beside him, fighting to catch breath.

"You really... need to go ... on a diet," he panted.

"You really ... need to ... stop feeding ... me ... rat stew," Arthur murmured between each ragged breath.

"That's typical ... carry you out ... of the castle ... and then you wake up," Merlin smiled as he crawled over to his trembling friend.

"Against ... my orders ... haven't ... forgotten ... those stocks ... you know," the young Prince stammered before his body began to seize.

"ARTHUR ... ARTHUR," Merlin cried out as he held his friend's thrashing body, desperately trying to remember an incantation that would help.

The touch of a reassuring hand startled him as Gwaine reached down to lift the dangerously ill Prince from the cold, hard ground.

"I've got him," the Irish knight barked. "Run on ahead ... tell Gaius I'm right behind you ... tell him to make ready.

x-x-x

_To be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

Gasping for breath Merlin crashed through the ice-cold stream and into the dimly lit cave. Gaius was there waiting.

"Merlin," the elderly physician murmured, as he rushed to his friend's side, supportive arm wrapped around trembling shoulders. "What happened?"

"It's ... Arthur ... right ... behind ... very sick," the shorthand message the only thing the exhausted sorcerer could convey.

"Right," Gaius responded, matter of factly. "We must prepare."

Based on his previous examination of Arthur's wound he already knew what they needed. Pulling out a whole plethora of ingredients he set about making the required tinctures and balms, so that by the time Gwaine staggered in with the seriously ill Prince they were ready

Gently lowering Arthur onto a pre-prepared dry leaf bed Gwaine moved swiftly out of Gaius's way.

Merlin crouched alongside the physician ready to provide the necessary assistance.

"How long has he been like this?" Gaius asked.

"About two hours … took me that long to get him out of the castle undetected," Merlin replied.

""That's a tale I can't wait to hear," Elyan murmured, now standing beside Gwaine.

"It will have to wait," Gaius barked, aware that Merlin would need time to make up a plausible explanation for their miraculous escape.

"Let's ease him onto his back," the elderly man suggested. "Lift his head up for me, Merlin so that I can administer some pain relief."

Easing himself behind Arthur, Merlin gently raised the young Prince until his sweat soaked head rested against his chest. Shocked by the heat radiating from his desperately ill master he whispered reassurance as Gaius teased open Arthur's trembling lips, coaxing him to swallow the much needed elixir.

"Now help me turn him," Gaius asked. "I need to take a look at the leg."

Gently rolling the shivering Prince onto his stomach the physician quickly cut away the blood soaked dressing. As he removed the soiled fabric all recoiled at the foul stench emanating from the infected wound.

"It's as I suspected … the poison's still in there … we must get it out before I can continue," Gaius murmured, already placing his knife into the open fire.

Merlin stared incredulously at the rapidly heating blade. He knew form experience what his elderly friend was planning to do – he just wasn't sure that Arthur could withstand it.

"It's time," Gaius advised as he pulled the white-hot knife from the burning embers. "Gwaine, hold his leg for me."

The knight crouched beside his wounded Prince and, as requested, grasped the damaged limb firmly.

"Merlin hold his shoulders … try to keep him as still as possible … this, I can assure you, is going to hurt him."

And then moments later he made the required incision.

Arthur, mercifully still unconscious, cried out - tried to pull away as the sterilised blade sliced through newly closed up flesh. But Merlin held him, whispered words of comfort to him until the task was complete. Gaius placed the knife back into the fire and began pushing together the cleanly cut skin; began pushing out the poison that was slowly killing his Prince.

Finally the flow of green mucus stopped – now only brilliant red blood was escaping from the injured leg. Happy that all of the poison was now gone Gaius reached once more for the re-heated knife.

"Hold him tight," he ordered as in one deliberate move he held the hot metal against the cleaned out wound. The smell of burning flesh filled their nostrils as Gwaine and Merlin held on tightly to their screaming Prince as he fought to escape the torment.

It took only a few seconds, any longer and the physician knew he would cause more damage. Arthur had stilled; had given in to blessed oblivion. Releasing their grip both Merlin and Gwaine stood up from the cold, hard cave floor and looked at one another.

"You okay?" Gwaine asked his young friend.

"Yeah … course," Merlin lied. He wasn't okay and he knew it. He wanted to run from the cave, hide away from the world in the tangle of bushes that surrounded their cold, damp refuge. Only Gaius's next request stopped him from doing just that.

"Pass me the grey pestle please, Merlin," his elderly friend asked.

Handing him the required object the young sorcerer looked on as the physician smeared the thick yellow paste onto the scorched skin, covering it, moments later, with a clean linen bandage.

It was only then that Gaius noticed how fragile Merlin looked; how close to the edge he really was.

"We'll need to change the poultice soon," Gaius advised, loud enough for all to hear. "But we've run out of Yarrow leaves. You know where to look don't you Merlin?"

He nodded eagerly, thank full for the opportunity to escape.

Once outside the cave and out of earshot he stopped, leaned forward and heaved the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor. He fell to his knees, unable to control his trembling body.

He could still hear the Prince's screams; still smell his friend's burning flesh. He threw up again then, the foul taste of puke tainting his mouth forcing him to spit out the rancid remnants.

It was his destiny to protect Arthur – his destiny to protect the future King of Albion - but he'd failed.

x-x-x

_Hope this made sense - would really appreciate some feedback please. Next chapter soon._


	4. Chapter 4

Struggling to unsteady feet Merlin staggered over to a nearby stream. He fell to his knees, greedily drinking handfuls of cool, refreshing water. Sated he scooped up more and splashed handfuls onto his face –instantly receiving the wakeup call that he needed. This was not the time to feel sorry for himself, not whilst Arthur lay sick and (he dared not think it) dying back in that cave.

Remembering the task allotted he began searching for the yarrow that Gaius needed He knew what it looked like, had been with the old physician long enough to recognize its lacey, fern-like leaves. And he knew where to find it too, so it didn't take long for him to locate a bumper crop. Pulling away the newest shoots, the ones that would have the best healing properties he soon had enough to make several batches of Gaius' special poultice.

It was as he turned to make his way back that he heard it – heard them. The unmistakable sound of human feet trudging through the undergrowth nearby, judging by the noise being made it was a large group, probably Morgana's men; probably immortals.

Instantly he knew what he had to do – he had to get them away from the cave, away from Arthur. Sprinting into the undergrowth he headed straight towards the approaching group ensuring that he made as much noise as possible as he ran. Moments later he crashed into a large clearing straight into the path of a hoard of heavily armoured warriors. Only startled for a moment they were soon in pursuit of the young magician as he raced away from his master's hiding place.

x-x-x

"Gaius he's getting worse," Elyan murmured as he knelt beside his trembling Prince, bathing his sweat-soaked face with a dampened cloth.

"I know ... it's as I feared. That was no ordinary arrow ... no ordinary poison. I'm afraid dark magic is at work here."

The Prince lost in a fever induced nightmare thrashed his head from side to side as Elyan continued to offer reassurance.

Crying out Arthur suddenly opened his eyes, looked around at his concerned friends. Confused – disorientated.

"Where?" He didn't need to complete the sentence as Elyan leaned forward to convey an answer.

"You're at the hideout, Sire," the young knight murmured. "You're safe ... we are safe."

Unfocussed eyes searched the cave for the owner of the voice. "Elyan?" Arthur questioned.

"Yes Arthur ... it is I."

"I'm ... sorry ... I failed ... you," the young Prince whispered, hand outstretched seeking a physical contact with his friend.

Elyan shocked by the statement stared up at Gwaine, seeking guidance.

The Irish knight could offer none, shrugged shoulders to say as much.

"You could never fail me, Arthur," Elyan murmured clasping Arthur's outstretched hand. "You saved me so many times ... you saved your people so many times."

"Gwen ... I should've ... protected ... her ... I am sorry," the young Prince murmured as his head lolled to one side, his body convulsing.

Elyan looked up in despair at Gaius. "Help him," he pleaded.

In response the elderly physician crouched next to his trembling patient, gently lifting Arthur's head; coaxing another dose of elixir into the dangerously ill man.

"The infection is getting worse," Gaius informed the worried knights as he peered beneath the soiled dressing. "It is time to change the poultice," he stared with concern at the cave entrance. "Where is Merlin?" he murmured.

x-x-x

_To be continued_

Hope this is making sense – any feedback good or bad would be greatly appreciated (please).


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